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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27396670">for i have done you wrong</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose'>zjofierose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>(every now and then) on my mind - Angstober 2019 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Head Injury, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Regret</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:33:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27396670</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"you weren't there when I needed you the most"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>(every now and then) on my mind - Angstober 2019 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998550</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>for i have done you wrong</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>just a baby ficlet for a prompt from a 2019 Angstober list. originally posted as part of a multi-chapter ficlets collection; re-posting as a stand-alone.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Viktor pauses outside the door to straighten his coat and breathe, releasing the death grip he has on the small tiger plushie in his hand. It’s going to be okay; Yakov had told him it would be fine, had told him there was no point in him coming, that he could just come tomorrow before he flies out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Viktor may like to play dumb, but he’s not stupid; he had to come tonight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s after visiting hours, but even halfway across the country in Sochi, he’s still </span>
  <em>
    <span>Viktor Nikiforov,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the desk attendant had taken one look at his costume and his performance make-up and his most charming smile, and waved him on through. Now here he stands, twisting his fingers outside the hospital room door, listening to the low murmur of voices down the hall and the soft, insistent beep of distant monitors. There’s a low light on in the room, but he takes a deep breath and opens the door slowly, careful not to make any unnecessary noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At first he thinks Yuri’s asleep, and his heart clenches at the sight of the too-small shape curled under the standard-issue blanket, the spill of golden hair across the pillow. He tiptoes closer, hardly daring to breathe, and reaches out to pull the blanket up across the thin, exposed, shoulder, wanting to cover it against the cool night air. He can see the line of stitches marching in neat black x’s at Yuri’s hairline, seven of them against the yellowed and bruising skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Viktor shudders at the memory of watching Yuri fall, of the way his eyes had widened with horror as he realized he couldn’t catch himself properly in time, of the sound his arm had made when it hit and the way the blood had bloomed instantly across the ice as his head had followed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Took you long enough,” Yuri mutters, eyes closed, and rolls over until his back is facing Viktor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Viktor sighs and settles on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How the fuck do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m feeling, asshole? I broke my fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>arm</span>
  </em>
  <span> and my fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>head</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>ice</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Viktor says, but it sounds lame even to his own ears. “What’s the prognosis?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got a fucking concussion, and seven goddamn stitches in my face,” Yuri bites out, his breath shaky. “They’ll operate on the arm tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yura</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Viktor settles a hand on Yuri’s hip, and Yuri flinches away. “I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And where the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> were you?” Yuri shoves himself upright abruptly, IV yanking against the metal arm of the bed. His hair is wild around his face, and Viktor can see the darkening bruises running down behind his ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had to skate, and then I had to do press, Yura, you know that,” Viktor tells him, willing him to understand. The injury was terrible, and Viktor had been up next, and as much as he’d wanted to follow Yuri on the stretcher to the hospital, Yakov had caught him by the shoulders and sent him back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve got him,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yakov had said even as Viktor pushed against his hold, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“do what you came here to do.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Had to win that gold,” Yuri hisses, throwing himself down with a vengeance, unable to hold back the choked sob as he lands a little too hard on the firm mattress. He turns his back again, and Viktor rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t medal,” he whispers, and feels Yuri freeze next to him. “Yura, I…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You weren’t here when I needed you the most,” Yuri chokes out, and Viktor kicks off his shoes and climbs into the bed, curling himself protectively around Yuri’s small form, pressing his face to the back of Yuri’s shoulder and cradling him as the silent sobs shake his rigid body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Viktor whispers helplessly, “Yura, I’m so sorry. I’m here now.” He lets the tears run down his own face, twisting carefully so that the IV line is unobstructed and Yuri’s splinted arm is free before dragging Yuri carefully back against his chest, whispering it like a mantra. “I’m here now.”</span>
</p>
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